


Always Next Time

by Silent_So_Long



Series: trope_bingo fills [2]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: trope_bingo, First Date, M/M, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chris works in a pizza parlour and Karl likes really strongly flavoured pizzas. Pizza Parlour AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> fill for my "au: other" square on my trope_bingo card

The scents of baking pizzas and garlic bread surrounded Chris as he chopped tomatoes expertly, the keen edge of the blade cutting through the soft fleshed fruit swiftly. He kept only half his attention on the flashing knife in his hand, too used to the weight and play of metal and wood against his hand by now to give his movements anything other the rudimentary concentration they needed. The remainder of Chris’ attention rested on the TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room, volume kept at low levels so as not to be too intrusive upon the general ambience, while being just about loud enough for the staff and nearest customers to hear. 

Chris wasn't really interested in the game show currently being aired, one in a seemingly endless round of similar game shows that bled one into the other until they all were the same. Even the distraction of people luckier than he was winning stupidly large amounts of money on the TV was better than being bored out of his mind making pizzas. 

While the work in and of itself wasn’t too bad - and Chris really could think of worse jobs he could be doing - he knew that it hardly stretched his capabilities at all. What he really wanted to be was an English tutor at the local college - the pizza parlour earned him enough money to coast his way through the classes he needed for his degree, even if it meant sacrificing half of his social life during the week to do so. 

He sighed and turned his gaze back to the tomatoes, before he scattered the finely cut rings of fleshy fruit across the top of the closest pizza. A few handfuls of pineapple chunks and mozzarella cheese were quick to follow, and he scooped the finished pizza into the nearest oven. He felt the heat of the oven blasting against his face momentarily, before the door clanged shut firmly and loudly. 

He turned back to the next order, checking Anton’s familiar scratchy scrawl in green biro, grimacing at the choice of pizza topping Anton’s customer had chosen - chicken korma with extra onions and garlic. Chris wagered that whoever had made that order was either a sado-masochistic weedy office type or someone who really enjoyed strong flavours. Shaking his head, he scooped a large dollop of pizza sauce upon the next round of dough, spreading it wide as he turned his attentions back to the TV screen while he worked. 

Fifteen minutes later, Chris shovelled the cooked chicken korma pizza into a box, thinking to himself that the pizza actually marginally smelt better than it had sounded. Fries soon followed in a Styrofoam package, and he wrapped the garlic bread in protective foil. 

“Chicken Korma pizza‘s ready,” Chris yelled over the myriad conversations taking place around the pizza parlour. 

He mentally added - for the sadist in the house - and just about resisted the urge to add that same epithet aloud. He turned when someone approached him; Chris eyebrows raised when the mental image he’d had of the customer in no way matched the reality. Instead of the weedy office type he’d been expecting buying outrageous pizzas on a dare, stood a broad shouldered man with a kind face, hazel eyes and a shock of dark hair combed into messy peaks. The man also seemed to have an aversion to doing up the top three buttons of his shirt, despite the chill in the air outside. 

“My pizza?” the man asked, smirking at Chris when he didn’t immediately hand the food over. 

Chris blinked back into reality at that when he realized that he’d been staring, before he said the first thing that came into mind.

“You’re not from around here,” he blurted, trying not to flush with sudden embarrassment. “New Zealander?” 

“Got it one, mate,” the man said, with a surprised lift of his eyebrows. “Most people seem to assume I’m Australian. You’re one of the few who actually recognise the accent.” 

Chris merely shrugged as though it was obvious, too embarrassed still to speak further. He handed the other man his food before he spoke again.

“I hope you enjoy your pizza,” he said, not quite hiding the grimace.

“I will, I’m sure. What can I say? I like strong flavours,” the other man said, with a laugh that pushed deep dimples into his cheeks. 

Chris couldn’t help but smile back at him, watching as the man started to turn away.

“You come back now,” he called after him.

“I will,” the man called back over his shoulder, before he was gone. 

“You’re losing your touch, there, Chris,” Zoe said, as she walked past him. “All that and you didn't even get a name. That‘s not like you to not get that, a phone number and a date as soon as you clap eyes on someone as attractive as that.” 

“Well, there’s always next time,” Chris said, confidently, with a smile, even as he silently hoped that there would even be a next time.

~~~

One week later saw Chris’ prediction coming true. The man from New Zealand not only returned for another pizza, he also deigned to give Chris his name - Karl - and also his phone number, an amused smirk playing across the broad Kiwi’s face. Once he’d been served and left the parlour, Chris turned triumphantly and waved Karl’s scrawled number beneath Zoe’s amused nose. 

“Losing my touch, am I? We’ll see about that, Zoe,” he crowed, as he tucked Karl’s number into his wallet firmly. “Wait till I put the famous Pine moves onto my new friend, Karl.” 

“You wait, he’ll run all the way back to New Zealand, if you even try your moves on him,” Zoe said, with a laugh. “Even though there is an ocean or two between here and there.” 

“He won’t,” Chris said, confidently, hoping that Zoe wasn’t going to be proved right. 

~~~

Chris wasn’t able to call Karl until the weekend, and Karl’s distinctively accented voice sounded surprised when he realized who was calling.

“I didn’t think you were gonna bother when I didn’t hear from you for a while,” Karl confessed, with an embarrassed lilt to his tone. 

“I’m sorry; I swear I’m not a fly-by-night, collecting phone numbers just because I can,” Chris said, neglecting to mention that he had been like that, as a teenager. “I’ve either been at work or at university.”

“I see. Well, in that case, I’ll let you off, I guess,” Karl said, an amused laugh rumbling down the phone line. 

“So, um, when are you free?” Chris asked. “For going out, I mean. On a date. And I swear I’m usually slicker than this when talking to people. Honest.” 

Karl’s laugh sounded again, genuine and warm and not in the slightest bit judgemental. 

“You’re not doing so bad, mate, I assure you,” Karl replied, laughter still warming his tone. “And I’m not free until next weekend. Will Saturday, 7pm, do you?” 

“That’ll do me fine,” Chris assured him, grateful that that was one of his rare free nights. “So, um, I’ll guess I’ll see you then.” 

“Will do. Until next week,” Karl said, still sounding amused by Chris.

Once he’d hung up the phone, Chris stared at the receiver for a long moment, before speaking aloud.

“I hope that was a good sign that you were laughing at me,” he said, ruefully. 

~~~

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Chris,” Zoe assured him the following evening, after listening to Chris’ worries over a potentially disastrous phone call. “Just wait until Saturday, and if it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to see him again. No harm, no foul. It’s not like you to be so worried, anyway. What’s got your drawers in an uproar about it, anyhow?” 

Chris shrugged, uncertain as to why he wanted to impress Karl so much; after all, he knew very little about the guy, other than Karl seemed to like horrendously topped pizzas. 

“I guess it’s the accent. It’s just so - “ and Chris faltered for a word. 

“Exotic?” Zoe asked, with her typical husky giggle. 

“Now, you’re emasculating me. Exotic, my ass,” Chris grumped, making Zoe laugh all the harder. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Zoe.” 

“Hey, you’re the one getting all uppity because you think I’m emasculating you. I’ve never heard such a stupid thing in my life. Really,” Zoe said, laughter bubbling between her words. “I think you’ve just got it bad and you just don’t want to admit it.” 

Chris’ only response was to growl at her and walk away, Zoe’s laughter following him every step of the way. Zoe shook her head affectionately at his retreating back and studiously ignored his mumbled protests for the rest of the evening regarding exotic accents, which somehow turned into exotic asses when it started getting too close to midnight. 

~~~

Karl popped into the parlour mid-week, and headed straight for Chris, despite the fact that Anton was free and Chris wasn’t. Chris, however, was all too glad to serve Karl once he was free, soon changing his mind when Karl ordered a beefburger and pickle toped pizza. Chris, however, deigned to show distaste or even comment upon the bizarre choice; Anton, however, had no compunction about making disgusted noises nearby.

Chris ignored Anton’s gags, preferring instead to chat to Karl while assembling what he considered a somewhat horrendously bizarre concoction of a pizza. He discovered that he and Karl had more than a few things in common. 

They both enjoyed computer games, appreciated similar types of books, movies and music, and while both admitted to being horrendous at dancing, Chris professed a fondness for karaoke and Karl didn’t. By the time that Karl left the parlour, Chris was left with a good feeling about the coming Saturday night. Zoe studiously avoided telling him that she told him so, a fact that Chris was eternally grateful for. 

~~~

Saturday night proved to be as fun and as interesting as Chris had hoped; Karl proved himself a great conversationalist, and often made Chris laugh with a seemingly never ending stream of funny stories and anecdotes. Chris was glad to note that Karl’s bizarre choice of pizza toppings didn’t extend to other areas of his cuisine choices; while Chris ordered the best steak and fries the restaurant could muster up, Karl settled for a plate of battered cod, with a side of chunky fries. 

Chris didn’t think to ask about the odd pizzas, until the evening was over and they were walking beneath the umbrella of stars that sprinkled across the sky, the moon their constant companion, shining down upon them to illuminate their way. 

“So, what’s the deal with those bizarre pizzas you keep ordering from the parlour?” Chris asked, with one of his usual, happy giggles. “Surely you can’t enjoy those godawful things?” 

“Seriously? No, I can’t stand them,” Karl laughed. “But the dog sure appreciates them.” 

“The dog?” Chris laughed. “Now, I don’t know whether I should be offended on the parlour’s behalf that you feed our food to the dog.” 

Karl laughed himself, before he rubbed at his chin in embarrassment. 

“I think my dog’s the most well-fed hound in the entirety of LA,” Karl said. “The only reason I kept ordering them was to get your attention.” 

“Well, you sure got that,” Chris said, before he fell silent. 

Karl stole a glance at him, as though uncertain as to whether he’d said anything wrong. 

“You didn’t have to order such horrific pizzas, you know,” Chris said, finally, so quietly, Karl almost missed his words. “All you would have had to do was say hello.” 

“Oh God, this isn’t one of those sappy “You had me at hello” moments, is it?” Karl asked, with a mock-grimace, which soon fell apart beneath the weight of his laughter. 

“I’m not that sappy, but yeah, if you like. I swear everyone’s determined to emasculate me lately,” Chris groaned. “The only trouble is, I think I actually deserve it.” 

Karl laughed at that, before falling silent again, uncertain as to what to say next. Chris filled the silence with another question. 

“So, um, would you like to do this again, sometime?” he asked, hopefully. “I mean, no pressure or anything, but I really had fun tonight.” 

“Yeah, so did I,” Karl said, with a smile. “And sure, I’d like to meet up again. Same time, next week?” 

“It’s good for me,” Chris said, with a shrug and a grin. “And if you feel like swinging by the parlour next week, make sure you order a sensible pizza. You know, one that doesn’t go straight to the dog. I swear our pizzas are really nice.” 

“I’m sure they are. My dog approves, at least,” Karl said, with a chuckle. “He’s very picky, by the way, what he puts in his mouth.” 

“Well, that’s good to know,” Chris said, with a smile of his own. “I can recommend the Hawaiian as being particularly good, by the way. Not to mention sensible.” 

Karl, at least, laughed at that, and Chris felt his own grin ease its way across his face. 

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Karl replied. “After all, I don’t have to get your attention any more, do I?” 

“Not really, no. You had me at hello,” Chris said, nudging Karl playfully. 

“See, I knew it,” Karl laughed. “Emasculating, my ass. Not a word, Chris.” 

Chris’ only response was to laugh, but he pointedly didn’t say anything. The conversation soon moved to other matters, such as where to eat the following weekend, or whether to forego the meal and to watch a movie instead. They settled on both a movie and a takeout, arranging to meet at the slightly earlier time of 6pm. 

~~~

“So how did it go?” Zoe asked, a few days later, large brown eyes staring at Chris, hopeful for good news. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, Chris, before you start. You know full well that I mean the date with Kiwi Karl.” 

“Kiwi Karl? Is that what we’re calling him, now?” Chris asked, in surprise.

“Anton’s name for him, not mine,” Zoe admitted, with an embarrassed quirk of her lips.

“Children, the lot of you,” Chris sighed, with an affectionate smile at Zoe. “And the date went very well, thank you. We’re meeting again this weekend.” 

Zoe made an interested noise while raising perfectly plucked eyebrows at him. 

“See, you always complain about working in a pizza parlour,” she chided, swiping at his stomach with her dish-cloth. “Just think, if you didn’t work here, you wouldn’t have met Kiwi Karl with his disgusting topping choices. I hope he has better tastes with other food groups. Assuming, of course, you count pizza as a food group.” 

She winked a little sassily at him, which made Chris smile. 

“Yeah,” Chris said, with a chuckle. “Those pizza toppings were a ploy to get my attention.” 

“Seriously? Now, that’s novel; you have to give him that,” Zoe said, with one of her husky laughs. 

Chris hummed, before his attention was caught by a new customer arriving. He sighed, knowing that he had to get back to work, once more. Strangely, he didn’t mind; the thought of Karl popping in sometime that week and the following weekend’s date was enough to keep him ticking along happily.


End file.
